


Brought back broken (and then there was you)

by HertzAnneCemfurt



Series: You'll never find yourself since you were never lost. [3]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cherrypicking canon, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Drug Addiction, Graphic Description, Guilty Bruce Wayne, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Lazarus Pit (DCU), M/M, My First Fanfic, Playing pingpong with the timeline, Slow Burn, no beta we die like robin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-27 18:22:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HertzAnneCemfurt/pseuds/HertzAnneCemfurt
Summary: - Get FUCKED, Bruce. I won’t ask you again.Bruce didn’t flinch but he hadn’t expected him to.- What’s the plan, Jason? Shoot me in the middle of a hospital?Or:Roy is gravely injured, Dick tries to repair the broken relationship between him and Jason. Jason tries to not handle his emotions by blowing stuff up.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Series: You'll never find yourself since you were never lost. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2227671
Kudos: 33





	1. The tremor is a vortex, stay away.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever fic, so go easy on me. English is not my first language so if you find any errors please point them out so that I can correct them! Whuf, so nervous!  
> It takes place somewhere after the events of Under the red Hood&Red Hood Lost days but everything after that is just indulgence in things that makes sense in my head.  
> Jason and Roy still teamed up, but he never reconciled with the Bats.  
> 
> 
> Please note the tags, if any of the subjects are triggering to you feel free to comment and I'll include a guide to how you can avoid the triggering passages.

Jason stepped into the safe house just one hour after midnight. It was an unusual time for him to be getting home, but the night’s affairs had been on the easier scale of things and (if you ignored the deep knife wound on his right shoulder) it had been quite successful. He felt light hearted as he looked around the bare apartment for Roy but it appeared as if the safe house was empty. His habit faithful, he told himself that he wasn’t disappointed. _  
_ ******“Back soon?”  
**He waited a couple of minutes to give Roy a chance to answer the text before he cursed and walked towards the bathroom. Roys stitching always left better looking scars and the deep cut on his shoulder would be a bitch to stitch up by himself. When he reached the bathroom he checked his phone again even though he knew that Roy still hadn't answered. _He wasn’t worried_ , he told himself. _Not yet_ . With a sigh he pushed the bathroom door open and removed the rest of his clothes carefully while trying to avoid ripping the wound open more than necessary. He dumped his clothes on the floor, debating which would be more annoying; the mess he’d be leaving or the pain of picking it up. Roy for sure wouldn’t care, but Jason did. The sharp throbbing of his shoulder decided for him so he took a deep breath to steel himself and turned over to look at the wound in the mirror. The gash was deep, but nothing a couple of stitches and some painkillers wouldn’t fix. He pulled out the stitching kit from underneath the sink and listened carefully to make sure that Roy hadn’t returned yet before reaching down to remove one of the floor tiles to reveal his secret stash of pain meds. Roy’s been clean for a long time now, and kept telling him that “those weak ass pills wouldn’t do shit anyway” but old habits die hard. The movement made the gash open wide with blood dripping like a faucet. Jason hissed and slapped a towel over his arm and tried to find the best access for his stitches but it turned out to be a shit job. Roy would probably curse at him for not waiting and demand that he’ll let him redo them. Jason smiled and poured some rubbing alcohol over the finished stitches. That lingering fluttering in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Roy’s fingers brushing gently across his skin was ignored with the same stern resolution as always.  
Sometimes he managed to pretend it wasn’t there at all.  
  
He had just propped up himself on some pillows with a bottle of beer, some leftover chinese take out and the remote conveniently within reach when someone knocked on the door. Hard.  
Jason furrowed his brow and reached for the gun on the living room table. Shirtless and barefoot he crept towards the door, every one of his senses on a high alert. Nobody knew about this safehouse except him and Roy, Jason’s made sure of that. He’d taken great care in creating his own oasis, a haven from everything and everyone. He was the one that wanted to get back to Gotham, but the moment he stepped foot in Crime Alley and tasted the sour polluted city air it was suddenly almost impossible to keep his mind from reaching into those dark places he fought so hard to get away from. Memories of green light, the taste of blood and that laugh that still haunted his nightmares. The safe house was his one chance to get the fuck away from everything he didn’t feel ready to face yet and having a place for just him and Roy allowed him to submerge into the slimey layers of Crime life Gotham in a pace that didn’t cause him to wake up covered in sweat and shame. At least not _every_ night.   
And yet, despite all of Roy's advanced technical tweaks to this place's security, here was the knock on the door. _Intruder,_ he thought and prepared himself for the confrontation.  
Gun raised, he carefully looked at the screen that showed the outside of their steel reinforced front door. And when he recognised the man outside he lowered his gun and swung the door so hard it startled his visitor into taking two steps back, reaching for his own weapon. Jason towered in the doorway, hard eyes and a stiffness in his body that only the Bats managed to pull out.

-What the fuck do you want, Dick? And how did you find this place?   
His voice was hard and without a trace of familiarity. Whatever they once shared was all gone now, cut from him with one swift slice of one of Batman's batarangs. But then he looked down and realised that Dick was covered in blood. _Fuck, just one quiet night is all I ask for.  
_-Shit, man, are you alright?

Dick looked at him with a flatness in his eyes that scared him, because he recognised that composed Dick far too well. Shit’s hit the fan, big time, and Dick who’s compartmentalizing skills would make Marie Kondo jealous, was probably right in the maelstrom of it.  
-Jason, you need to come with me. Now.  
His voice was stern but Jason was probably one of a very slim number of people who’d be able to detect that ever so slight tremor of it. Instinctively his body reacted to it and it took all his willpower not to tense up like a deer who’s caught the whiff of a wolf.   
-I’m not getting drawn in your shit, Goldie. I can stitch you up, but then I want you to get the hell outta here, alright?  
He moved from the doorway to allow his former brother to step into the apartment but Dick remained frozen with those large beryl eyes piercing him.  
-Jason, it’s Roy. He’s hurt, it’s pretty bad. Please, we need to go to the hospital, now.  
_Roy_ . The sinking feeling was now a pitch black hole that blurred the edges of his vision. He grabbed a pair of shoes and a large hoodie, kicked the door closed behind him while pulling the shirt over his head, completely ignoring how the movement tore at his stitches. Dick quickly followed and when he started walking Jason noticed a limp.  
Not a good night for Nightwing. 

A black car was parked outside of the building and Jason clenched his jaw hard when he recognized the driver. He whipped his head to look at Dick but he’d already cracked the backdoor open.  
\- I need to change. Take the front seat and try to keep it civil, please.   
_Fuck you and fuck your civil._ He bit back the response and watched as Dick tried to get in the backseat but his injured leg made the transition far from graceful. Jason couldn’t quite hold back his smirk.   
-Is Demon brat even old enough to drive? Wouldn’t wanna crash into a wall just because B is a bad judge of character.  
He gave Damien a side glance as he closed the door and the car started moving but Damien didn’t respond to the jab, which made him even more worried. Damien was not the one to accept insults, especially from Jason.  
\- I left a clean up kit in the back seat, Dick, I think you have some chunks in your hair so if you can’t get them all just take the beanie.   
The kids' voice had changed since he last saw him, another great reminder of exactly how much time had passed since he last considered himself welcomed at the mansion.  
In the backseat Dick wiggled out of his suit and a treacherous part of Jason was relieved to see that most of the blood appeared to be someone else’s. And then the thought that it might be Roy’s hit him and he suddenly felt the need to heave. He knotted his fist in his pockets and tried to keep his voice steady.

-So, what the fuck did Roy get up to? He told me he was meeting an old friend, didn’t mention it was you?  
Roy’d been elusive, but they’ve been friends long enough for Jason to know when to give him his space. He got why Roy didn’t tell him, but the idea of him hanging out with Dick without him knowing gave him a bad taste. _It wasn’t jealousy_ , he told himself quite furiously. But the Bats were bad news, case and fucking point with Roy in the hospital. Why hadn’t they taken Roy back to the mansion? Alfred's patching up skills was more than enough for everything short of pure life threatening shit and _that was something he didn’t even want to get into right now._ Dick’s head appeared between the seats, now with a beanie on and a lot cleaner than before. He chewed his lip before answering and when he did Jason didn’t need his Bat experience to hear the tremor of it.  
-It’s the Joker, Jay. He sliced him up bad, fucking bad. B took him to the hospital in the Batmobile but he told us to come in as civilians. It all went to shit tonight and I still haven’t heard anything more. He-

Dick turned to look at him but Jason kept his face turned to the road. Just breathing was suddenly hard, as if the very mention of his murderer reminded his lungs of how they were punctured by his own ribs, how his own blood drowned him as he screamed for help until there was no more air left to scream with. _Not now, not again, not this._ He wanted Dick to shut the hell up, he wanted to rip the door open and just get the hell away from _whatever_ Dick was going to say next because he just _wasn’t strong enough. He’d never been strong enough._ But all he managed to do was remain frozen, eyes fixed on the road, fist knotted so hard it drew blood from his palms.   
\- I’m not even sure he’s alive, Jay. His stomach was a mess, just a mess.  
Even Damien turned to look at Jason now but he’s feature was frozen in what appeared to be an emotionless frown, but Dick noticed that he’d stopped breathing. He didn’t even blink.  
-Jay, I-

Jason whipped his head around and gave him a look that would’ve burned a hole in a brick wall. Dick jerked back from it and landed hard in the backseat. Jason didn’t shout, at first.  
\- Why the FUCK did you go after the FUCKING JOKER?  
It just felt so good to scream, to remind himself that he wasn’t there anymore, that his lungs still _could_ scream. _.  
_ -And how THE FUCK DID YOU NOT TELL ME? WHAT HAPPENED?   
He slammed his fist on the dashboard and Damien let out a small yelp of surprise but Dick was prepared. His voice was far too understanding and far too guilty which only made the anger more choking.  
\- Jay, B made sure you wouldn’t know that the Joker was back. He wanted to make sure you two never crossed paths and we were supposed to take him out and put him back into Arkham without you ever knowing.  
He paused and catched Damiens eyes in the back mirror. There was a question there, but Dick was not really ready to face it. The thought of having to face the consequences of the choices he’d made was just too much, too overwhelming. Too many bridges had been burned and he’d still have to face Bruce one more time before the night was over. He ran his hands over his face and winced when he touched the sore spots that he managed to forget about. Jason still faced the dashboard and without seeing his face those huge tense shoulders were terrifying _._ When did he get so _big?_ Then suddenly Damien pulled up right outside the hospital and Dick let out a sigh of relief. 

\- Jay, I’ll tell you everything, I swear. But the Joker’s dead, okay? Roy killed him. He’s proper dead, I swear to you. We’ll go through all the details later but can we just get in now and see Roy?  
He opened his door before the car came to a full stop and hoped that Jason would follow him without punching holes in the wall. _Again_.  
Jason opened his door but his legs were shaking too badly for him to get upp. He drew in big gulps of air and tried to steady his racing heart and clear his mind, but it was just fucking mayhem inside him. Dick had almost reached the door of the hospital before Jason caught up with him. _If they got Roy in over his head I’ll kill them all. I’ll fucking kill them all._ He kept his eyes fixed on the back of Dicks shirt and tried to get his leg into walking straight without stumbling. He didn’t hear a word of Dick’s quiet conversations with the staff.  
They showed them to a quiet area outside the ER and just when Jason thought the night couldn’t get any more shitty a familiar face forced him back to reality with a jerk that made Dick pause midstep. 

Bruce was sitting in the waiting room.   
  



	2. My world centres around the palm of your hand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jason reached behind his back to his gun and pulled it out, removing the safety and pointed it at Bruce in one smooth movement. His hands were steady even if the rage made his voice shake.  
> \- Get FUCKED, Bruce. I won’t ask you again.  
> Bruce didn’t flinch but he hadn’t expected him to.  
> \- What’s the plan, Jason? Shoot me in the middle of a hospital?"
> 
> Or  
> Jason's forced to face both Bruce and the extent of Roy's injuries. Bruce takes the opportunity to try to reconcile. Good vibes all around!

Bruce got up slowly and turned to face them. Dick’s back stiffed instantly which was a very peculiar reaction. Waiting for Bruce’s eyes to meet his own made Jason feel like dropping slowly into a pool of ice cold water. _You tried to fucking kill me._ His lip turned upwards in a mix between a smile and a snarl, and he was fully aware of how the scar above his upper lip made the smile crooked. He hadn’t quite gotten used to it yet. At least now he could feel the light tug without being plunged back into the feeling the claw of the crowbar being jammed into his face with enough force to make it get stuck there, forcing the joker to place his ridiculously oversized shoe on his face to yank it out. But Batman had never seen that scar in its full glory. He hadn't even seen him without his domino and even then his face was covered in dirt and blood, hiding most of the Joker’s handiwork. Forcing Bruce to face it made the scars feel like some sort of twisted armor, another thing separating his present self from the scared boy relying on Batman for safety. But Bruce didn’t even look at him, his eyes were fixed on Dick and a very familiar vein on his forehead made Jason realize that Bruce was _furious._ What was going on here?  
Before anyone could speak they were interrupted by the doors from the secluded area of the ER being slammed open and a tall female doctor came into the waiting area, peeling her surgical gloves away as she approached them. She was a bloody mess, her scrubs looked like she’d been to war, but she still managed to give a very stern impression with grey eyes behind steel framed glasses. 

-Mr. Todd? Are one of you a Mr. Jason Todd?  
Jason wiped the snarl of his face and stepped towards her, Dick and Bruce quick to follow.  
\- I’m Jason Todd. He offered while being painfully aware of how his hair was still covered in sweat and grime from his earlier endeavours.  
She gave him an inquisitive look.  
\- Roy Harper has named you his next of kin, according to his chart. Is this something you’re aware of?  
Jason shook his head slowly. A very small part of his chest made itself known by fluttering over the fact that Roy felt close enough to appoint him, but a much larger part were starting to panic about what kind of decisions he’d be forced to make.   
\- It means that you have the final say. I need a say, right now.  
She paused and took off her glasses to clean them on her sleeve but realized how bloodied it was and put them back on, unphased. When he didn’t respond she looked at him with an intense gaze that made him feel completely naked. He had to fight back an impulse to touch some part of his clothes to make sure they were still there.  
\- Roy has made a very clear exception in his chart against the use of opioid analgesics. But given the extent of his injuries and his current state I’d strongly advise you to allow us to make sure he's properly pain relieved before we roll him down to the ICU. Without proper pain medications the recovery will be quite hard.  
She spoke very fast now, eager to get back.  
\- No. No smack, none of it. If that's what Roy want’s, then find something else. He’s stronger than he looks, he’ll be alright.  
His voice showed none of the hesitation he felt and he had a small feeling that this was exactly why he and not someone like Dick or Ollie was named next of Kin. It was just one of those things they’d never be able to understand, since they’ve never had to face it. Ollie kicked Roy out without a moment of hesitation the first time he’d discovered his sidekick’s affiliation for anything dope related and Dick had never even seen Roy strung out since he’d managed to stay clean as a whistle during his whole run with the Titans. He squared his shoulders against her stern look and she kept her eyes on him for just a moment more before she nodded. 

\- I see. We are preparing a room for him at the ICU. We’ve managed to stop the bleeding and repair most of his abdominal wall but we can’t really give a prognosis yet. We might have to bring him back to surgery in a few days, but I’d like him to get his blood levels up a bit more. If you want you can wait in ICU room 23 and someone will bring him down.  
Jason let out a long breath he wasn’t aware he’s been holding in. Behind him Dick slouched down until his hands were on his knees, looking pale as a ghost.  
\- Hey doc, thank you. I can’t-

He wasn’t quite sure how to continue without choking on the lump in his throat. Holding back everything to avoid crumbling down like a sobbing speck of the dirt on the spotless floor took just about everything he had. 

Her eyes lost some of their sternness against the rawness of his voice and she almost smiled. 

-Its my job, you know. Good luck now, hopefully we won’t meet again.   
When the doors closed behind her he began searching for room 23. Dick began to follow him but Bruce reached out an arm and grabbed his before he could take a step.  
\- Dick, we need to talk now. In there.  
He gestured with his head towards an empty examination room. Dick threw a glance at Jason who pretended not to notice and then followed Bruce. Jason decided that whatever it was that was going on he’d have none of it.  
Thankfully ICU room 23 was empty when he got there which allowed him to close the door firmly behind him and sit down on the floor against it. His hands were shaking but he managed to check that his gun was still securely hidden in the back of his pants underneath his hoodie, the routine of it calming him somewhat. He forced himself to be absorbed by the ticking of the clock on the wall, to get consumed by the relentless moving of the clock hands. It felt like it was hours before someone finally tried to open the door, making him skip to his feets. A chubby nurse with kind eyes and a wave of curly hair thanked him for holding the door open and rolled in a bed. She checked all the little machines carefully before leaving, making notes on her chart pad. He was painfully grateful over the fact that she didn’t seem to be all that chatty and when she finally left he almost collapsed on the floor a second time. Roy was a pale man at the best of times, but after losing so much blood his skin appeared to be almost translucent. His coppery hair was dull and there were still spots of blood in it. Jason pulled up a chair and sat down as close to the bed as he could get, finally letting it sink it. The falling and rising of Roy’s chest was suddenly the only thing that seemed to get his own lungs to remember how to function. His breathing pace synced instinctively with Roy’s as if it would somehow ensure that Roy would continue breathing. He tucked his hands firmly under his thighs to keep them from reaching out and touching Roy’s white face just to make sure he was still warm and alive. Just looking at the different numbers on the screen next to the bed wasn’t enough. He studied the freckles one Roy’s shoulder, counting them one by one as if he didn’t know them by heart already. Roy’s arms were covered in bandages, probably from defensive wounds. Another gut turning detail to ad to the list. His right eye was swollen and Jason doubted he’d be able to open it even if he were to wake up. Counting the numbers of injuries and bruises just made the urge to touch him even more unbearable. He struggled with himself for five whole breaths before giving in. He reached out to Roy’s shoulder and put his hand gently on the pillow beneath it, his fingers covering some of those freckles he loved so much. Finally, with Roys skin underneath his finger, that huge lump in his throat that has been choking him ever since Dick knocked on the door started to dissolve. He drew a shuddering breath and felt a familiar part of his chest rejoice over the tiny scent of Roy that managed to reach him over all the smells associated with a hospital. Somewhere mixed in with the smell of alcohol, detergent, latex and soap there was a whiff of beeswax and the shampoo Roy favoured along with something unidentifiable that was just Roy. Sometimes when they came down after a busy night, after cleaning up their wounds and grabbing something to eat, Roy would sit by the kitchen table in his worn out sweatpants and no shirt while fixing up his bow. Jason would sit across the table from him while cleaning his guns, trying his best to not lose himself in that scent. A battle he constantly lost. 

The door to their room suddenly opened and Bruce came in. His face was as controlled as ever, but two distinct red spots on the top of his cheekbone together with that familiar vein in his forehead gave him away. Whatever it was they discussed Dick and Bruce had a fight, and it was a bad one. Dick wasn’t with him but Jason suspected he had gone somewhere to calm down since he, unlike Bruce, was an actual human. When Bruce entered Jason self consciously jerked his hand back from Roy’s shoulder and his fingers suddenly felt way too cold. He remained seated but every fibre of his being was alerted into combat mode. 

Bruce drew a long breath and opened his mouth but Jason cut him off, harshly. 

-Get fucked, Bruce.  
Bruce frowned at the hostility in his voice but Jason was relentless.  
\- Was I unclear, Batty? Out. Now. 

Bruce didn’t move which made Jason absolutely furious. 

\- Jason, I need to-  
Jason reached behind his back to his gun and pulled it out, removing the safety and pointed it at Bruce in one smooth movement. His hands were steady even if the rage made his voice shake. 

\- Get FUCKED, Bruce. I won’t ask you again.  
Bruce didn’t flinch but he hadn’t expected him to.  
\- What’s the plan, Jason? Shoot me in the middle of a hospital? 

His tone was achingly familiar, the same voice he’d ask him about the different steps of disarming an alarm or how to spot a concealed gun a quiet night at the mansion.  
\- Glock 23? You take no chances.  
Jason curved his lip. 

\- You dodged one bullet, but I’d be happy to test that agility with a triplet of bullets. Try me. 

They remained still for a moment and then Bruce turned his back at him and reached for the handle. 

\- Take care, Jason. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.  
Jason held his gun raised until he heard Bruce steps fading away and then slouched down on the chair, trying to force his pounding heart to slow down. Part of him wanted to find Dick and get the full story of the evening but trying to make sense of this whole mess was just overwhelming and the idea of leaving Roy’s side even for a short while was too much to handle right now. He put the safety back on his gun and tucked it back in the back of his pants. The coolness of the metal felt reassuring. Roy’s breathing was steady and for a moment he allowed himself to focus only on the sound he made as he slowly inhaled and exhaled, the pace of it lulling him back into a normal heart rate. After a short internal struggle he finally allowed himself to take Roy’s hand, careful not to disturbed the bandages. Roys calloused hand fitted so perfectly in his and that small skin on skin contact was enough to shut everything else out. For a few moments he stopped fighting it and let his whole world centre around his left hand wrapped round Roy’s placid fingers.  
_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.  
> I'll probably update way too soon since I got an exam coming up and it just makes everything that is not being crunched over a book TOO DAMN APPEALING.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'll update as soon as I can, this will probably end up being a lot longer than I planned..


End file.
